


A Mile in My Shoes, a Lifetime in My Head

by firesign10



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Magic, Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firesign10/pseuds/firesign10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One morning Jared and Jensen wake up and find they've been body-swapped. At first, it's pretty funny as they deal with being in each other's body! But things quickly get serious when Jared falls ill and Jensen can't seem to help him. Secrets can't be hidden when you're in your partner's head . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set in between Seasons 1 and 2; no spoilers.
> 
> Written for the 2013/4 Reverse Bang on LiveJournal. Many kudos to my artist BeelikeJ for creating the art that prompted this story as well as creating more art for it.
> 
> Many thanks to Pipisafoat for beta, Roxymissrose for alpha, and both for their support and encuragement!
> 
> This is probably the most personal story I have written to date. Please note that people might experience different things if they're in the same/similar situations. Thank you for reading, and as always -- comments are love :-)

  


The sun sent sneaky rays of light between the curtains; annoying little intruders that poked at Jared's head, making him wake up. He groaned softly and rolled over, trying to bury his head in the welcoming pillow. He felt warm and boneless; the sheets were just the right temperature, the mattress was cradling his body perfectly. The rich smell of coffee wafted in, further stimulation that told him that Jensen was already up. He sighed and pushed his way upright, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. Something felt a little off. Maybe his coordination was wonky? His muscles must be a little sore from yesterday's filming, the last before hiatus. He rubbed his hands over his face and then pushed his hair back behind his ears.

Except he didn't have any hair to push back.

Jared ran his hands over his scalp. Plenty of hair (whew!), but not the long strands he'd worn for years as Sam Winchester. This hair was much shorter, and . . . kinda spiky? He fingered a few strands and discerned the tacky remnants of gel. What the hell?

Opening his eyes, Jared immediately felt woozy. What was wrong with his eyes? Holy shit, this was Not Cool. Everything was hazy and had blurry edges. He could still make things out, but the clarity he'd always taken for granted was gone. The curiosity prompted by his hair now flicked over into serious concern.

He found his pajama pants and slipped them on, then opened a drawer and grabbed a T-shirt. Both garments seemed too large — the T-shirt was somewhat roomy, but the pants hung below his feet. He rolled his waistband up a couple times so that he wouldn't wipe out just walking around. Did he freakin' shrink overnight?

Before heading downstairs, he went into the en suite bathroom to pee. _Good thing I don't need 20-20 for that,_ he thought, trying to push down the anxiety that was mounting inside him. When he was finished, Jared looked into the mirror. He gasped and fell against the wall behind him, sliding down it to end up on the floor. His vision might be blurry, but it was plenty good enough to see his face reflected in the mirror.

Or, as it turned out, to see Jensen's face.

Jensen stuck his head into the en suite and saw Jared sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall with a look of shock on his face. Jared looked up at him and yelped. "Jensen! What the fuck is going on? _Why do we have each others faces on?"_

They made it back downstairs, after patting each other to make sure they were really inside the other's body, clutching each other as they moved toward the kitchen. Jensen carefully poured coffee for Jared — coordination was a whole new ball game with different muscles and limbs. Jared slid the mug closer and caught himself studying his new hand — _Jensen's_ hand. "It's so weird," Jared whispered. "I know this body so well — the freckles, the hands, the face. But it's so different from the inside." He reached for his mug and bumped it, slopping coffee to the counter. "Shit, Jensen, I can't even see right! Is this really what it's like for you?"

Jensen nodded. "Oh yeah, that's the nearsightedness! I'll give you my — your — contacts. Or the glasses, whichever you'd prefer. That will take care of the vision problem. Just . . . what the hell happened to us, dude? This is fucking crazy!" His stomach grumbled. "What, I'm hungry? I don't even eat in the morning half the time, and certainly not at 8:30 a.m.!"

Jared grinned. "Big body, big appetite. That body needs a lot of fuel, so get chowing. And I don't know what happened, just that I woke up as you. You have any ideas?" He had a glimmer of an idea, but it wasn't to the point of sharing it with Jensen yet.

Jensen shook his head, running his hands through long brown hair and pushing it out of his face. No wonder Jared was always doing that! "Not right now. I went through pretty much the same thing — woke up, realized things were wrong, looked in the mirror and saw your mug staring back at me. Gotta say, dude . . . nice equipment!" He leered at his lover, who cuffed his head in response.

"Jesus, Jen, you'd think you never licked that dick before!" Jared laughed and grabbed his crotch. "I gotta say, it's kinda fun swapping like this, though!" He flexed his pelvis at Jensen. "You're so pretty . . . everywhere!"

Jensen laughed too and flipped Jared off. "Okay there, buckaroo, one thing at a time! I gotta feed your huge carcass, apparently, and you need to fix your little vision issue. Then we'll see if we can figure out what the hell is going on here. I feel like we stepped into an episode of the show! Too bad we can't just call Bobby, right?"

"It's pretty Freaky Friday for sure, but there's got to be an explanation. We'll get to the bottom of it, okay?" Jared reached out to pull Jensen close, wrapping his arms around the other man. "Damn, I really am a big son of a bitch! I don't know how you manage to handle me, dude, I feel fucking petite right now!" He nuzzled at Jensen's ear. "So weird to be shorter than you, Jen. I mean, me. Fuck — I think we need to explore all the . . . possibilities this affords us . . ." Jared tilted his face up to kiss Jensen, closing his eyes as he realized that he didn't quite want to watch himself kissing his own face. Damn, this was confusing . . . but oh, the kiss was every bit as passionate, as hot, as the first time . . . were his lips really this soft? Was it that he was using Jensen's luscious mouth? In a kiss this good . . . did it really matter?

Jared Padalecki thought he'd hit the jackpot on the day he met his new co-star, Jensen Ackles. As he shook Jensen's hand, his first impression was how gorgeous Jensen was. Big, green eyes, thick lashes, fantastic bone structure — it was an array of riches. Jared couldn't help staring at Jensen's tempting mouth, plump lips shiny from his tantalizing habit of periodically rolling his tongue over them. He wasn't as tall as Jared — who was? — but he was clearly a little over six feet with wide shoulders, thickly muscled arms, a broad chest that tapered to a trim waist and hips, and a stellar ass. Yeah, Jared couldn't keep his eyes off the man; he snuck peeks as they walked the set, sat next to each other in the make-up chairs, tried on clothes in wardrobe. The wardrobe session gave Jared extra goodies to look at, as Jensen skinned off his shirt to try on some flannel ones. His skin was lighter than Jared's own honey-tan, and there were so many freckles! The same cinnamon freckles that were dusted across Jensen's face continued down his shoulders, across his collarbone, over his pecs. Jesus, Jared wanted to lick him and see if the freckles _tasted_ of cinnamon, feel how soft and smooth his skin would be against Jared's tongue. He shook himself and made himself look away. Jensen was his co-star, not an all-you-can-eat buffet.

The days sped away as they shot the first episodes of _Supernatural_. The show was a bit of a gamble; the material was unusual and often dark, and Jared and Jensen were the only two regulars in the cast. It meant long days of shooting for them, and a lot of time training as well. There were hours spent at the gun range, hours working out at the gym and in sparring practice, all in addition to the usual time spent in wardrobe, hair  & make-up, rehearsing, studying tomorrow's sides. Jared was exhausted a great deal of the time, and he could see that Jensen was feeling the strain as well, although the man never said a bad word about it. It was tiring, but God damn, it was fucking exciting as well. They were carving out something new, something fresh and intense. Kripke was writing fascinating, compelling scripts. Kim Manners and Robert Singer and the entire crew were making those scripts come to life, and Jared wouldn't have passed up this experience for anything.

The massive amount of hours spent shooting plus the fact that Jared and Jensen were the only two regulars meant that they spent an incredible amount of time together. They got made up and had their hair styled together, chairs sitting side by side in the wardrobe trailer. They practiced stunts together, rehearsed together, shot most of their scenes together. Most of the time, they even changed clothes and ate together. Jared mused once that the only time they weren't together was when they had to crap — since they frequently ended up peeing together during scene changes. And sleeping — they didn't sleep together. Jared privately tacked a hopeful "yet" onto that sentence.

The more Jared saw of Jensen, the more he liked him. Simply using the word "like" didn't encompass his feelings, though. He _appreciated_ Jensen — his hard work, his unstinting professionalism, his commitment to creating a quality show. Jensen had a dry wit and killer timing; he was skilled at finding just the right words at just the right time to crack up the crew or send a barb at an annoying guest star. He was a fellow Texan, and they shared beers and steaks and sports on many a day off. Jared felt totally at ease with him . . . except for the part where he lusted after the man. He wanted Jensen, and not just because he was beautiful and sexy. It was how Jensen had so many great qualities all rolled up into one sumptuous package that tempted Jared every single day.

He didn't even know if Jensen would be receptive about a boyfriend. Did he even like men? There was no dating going on for either of them — who had time? — and it just never came up. If Jared were honest to himself, he wasn't really bringing the subject up — part of him felt that, as long as he didn't know for sure, there was hope . . .

After all of his fretting, it turned out to be so easy. Jensen let a sentence slip that put things in a whole new light for Jared, and the end of the week found him knocking on the door of Jensen's apartment, a bottle of tequila in one hand and limes in the other. Jensen threw the door open, greeting Jared with a wide grin. "You think you got everything we need there, cowboy? What if we get . . . a little carried away?" His wink just about made Jared fall down the steps.

"I got everything we could need. José and limes — I assume you've got salt — and since you asked, there's condoms and lube in my jacket pocket. I'm not assuming anything, but I do like to be prepared." Jared grinned back, elated to see Jensen throw his head back and laugh.

"Well, come on in then, Jay. Come on in!" Jensen stepped back, ushering Jared in.

They drank a lot that night, but not too much. Not so much that Jared couldn't peel Jensen's clothes off and examine all of that deliciously speckled skin. He licked and kissed all over Jensen, humming in pleasure over those smooth muscles, running his palms over the hard planes of Jensen's body. In turn, Jensen wrestled him out of his Sam outfit of plaid shirt and baggy jeans, kissed the breath from him as he dragged his fingertips down Jared's neck and torso, stopping to tug and twist his nipples. Jared was panting by the time Jensen pushed him flat on his back and swung a leg over his hips. Jensen grabbed Jared's achingly hard cock and slowly, oh so slowly pushed himself down on it, green eyes boring into Jared's. Jared forced himself to lie still and let Jensen take it at his own pace, but he couldn't stop kneading Jensen's ass at the same time. Jensen cursed as he descended, swearing at Jared and his large dick as its fat length penetrated him. It didn't keep Jensen from moaning in pleasure though, and his fingers scrabbled at Jared's belly as he strove to take it all inside. Jared's eyes rolled back in his head at the hot, tight feel of Jensen's body around him, and once Jensen was fully seated — with yet more cursing and grunting — it didn't take long for both of them to explode like firecrackers. Jensen collapsed on Jared, who rolled them to their sides so they could lay together in sweaty, sticky bliss.

Jared woke up for the second time that day, feeling deliciously relaxed and dozy. His muscles felt nicely loose as he lounged against the sheets. He and Jensen had returned to bed and enjoyed a leisurely round of sex, experienced in the other's body, followed by a nap. He opened his eyes and saw a muscular chest in front of him with sculpted pecs rising and falling. Dark hair circled brown nipples, the hair thickening in between the pecs and then trailing down the undeniably chiseled abs. It startled him to realize this was _his_ body. It looked alien like this, lying all spread out in front of his eyes. In detached consideration, he could see how strong and beautiful it was, with miles of lightly tanned skin, long limbs, and a generously sized penis lying at the apex of sharply defined hip cuts. Jared was used to looking at his body — he trained hard, and his profession required a high awareness of his physicality — but this was entirely different. He wasn't used to evaluating it from . . . outside. _This is how everyone else sees me,_ he thought, extending his hand over the softly moving chest. _This, not some lanky, skinny 18 year old._ He riffled the hair, flicked a fingertip over a nipple and watched it harden, skimmed the abs to gently cradle the soft cock. It moved beneath his touch, stiffening a little as he stroked it, and Jared felt both excited and confused. If he was getting turned on watching himself, did that make him a narcissist?

"You're fine," he heard his own voice say. Jared looked up and saw Jensen looking at him seriously. "Of course you're curious. Hell, so am I. Who ever gets to see themselves like this? It's wild. So yeah, you're going to be curious, going to wanna see it in action." He rubbed a large palm over Jared's current face, sliding his thumb over the full lips. "The flip side is that we get to see _each other_ like this. You get to feel what I feel, and vice versa. You get to experience what I like and how everything feels to me on an unprecedented level. So relax — I think you're perfectly normal." He pressed his lips to Jared's and they kissed unhurriedly. Jared was feeling his arousal start to rise when Jensen gave him a final smooch, smacked his ass, and rolled to the edge of the bed. "Hungry again! Jesus, Jared, I promise I'll never tease you about how much you eat again!"

They cooked a late breakfast in the sunny kitchen, pausing often to correct their reach or to adjust their reflexes in their unaccustomed meat-suits. Jared marveled at seeing Jensen eat four eggs, five pieces of bacon, and two pieces of toast. Normally, he might eat a single egg and some toast with several cups of coffee. Now it was Jared who found himself not hungry, content to nibble and sip while he kept Jensen company during his meal.

He washed the few dishes while Jensen cleaned up the food, gazing out the window and thinking about how even the view was different now, with his new height. He didn't realize how lost in thought he really was until Jensen came up behind him and slid his arms around Jared's waist. Jared jumped and dropped a juice glass in the sink, jumping again at the sound of it breaking. "Jesus Christ, Jensen! Look what you made me do!" he yelled, pushing Jensen away as he moved to see what happened. "I got it, asshole. Just leave it alone." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jensen draw away, a sheepish expression on his face. Jared wanted to tell him it was okay, but there was something hot and heavy in his head that wouldn't let him. He pushed past Jensen to get the trash can and started picking the larger pieces of glass out of the sink. One of them slid down his knuckle and Jared cursed, grabbing a paper towel to wrap around the cut.

"Shit, Jared! Are you okay? Let me see," Jensen said, moving right next to Jared. Jared felt like Jensen was towering over him, crowding him, and anxiety began to build inside him.

"Leave me the fuck alone! If you hadn't been clowning around in the first place, this wouldn't have happened!" Jared threw the bloody paper towel into the trash. "I'm going upstairs to take care of this. You clean this up." He turned his head away as he walked out of the room, not wanting to see Jensen's reaction. He was sure there'd be a hurt expression on Jensen's face - this wasn't usually how Jared reacted to things. It felt deeply wrong to him, but he was too upset to figure it out at the moment.

Jared wondered at himself as he walked up the stairs. He felt so . . . so uncharacteristically _angry_. Ridiculously angry, given what had happened. It was like a tornado ran through his head, wreaking havoc and flinging out debris, entirely uncontrollable. Entering the bathroom, he began running water over the cut, watching the blood ooze down the drain in a tiny stream. Why did he fly off the handle like that? It wasn't like him at all. Jared was generally mellow and easy-going in almost any situation. He sighed and turned off the water, wrapping a paper towel tightly around the cut to apply pressure. Looking up, he saw Jensen's face in the mirror, green eyes wide and freckles standing out on his pale skin. Maybe it was just the shock from the swap. He searched those green eyes anxiously. Yeah, that was it. It was a hell of a business to find yourself inside your partner's body - of course he was all stirred up.

Right?

 

A few months after they'd reached true relationship status, Jensen came to Jared with a look of frustration on his face. Jared reached for his boyfriend and pulled him close, easing them around the corner of the craft tent for some privacy. They weren't out to the set yet, although Jared hoped they'd get to that point. Right now, their relationship was just between them. He wrapped his arms around Jensen and just breathed deep, enjoying the warm scent of his lover's skin mixed with Jensen's after-shave. He felt Jensen's stiff body relax inside his embrace, and his arms came up around Jared in response as he sighed.

"What's up, Jen?" Jared asked softly. "You look pretty upset."

Jensen growled, "I have to find a new place to live — my roommate's girlfriend is moving in. I'm happy for him, of course, but now I've gotta find someplace to move into ASAP. Like I have so much free time to look, y'know? Fuck!" He pulled back from Jared, who was surprised to see Jensen's face twisted with anger.

"Yeah, I get that it's a pain, but we can do it," Jared said soothingly. "I'll look with you, we'll find a place. I'm sure Joe isn't going to kick you out onto the street, right?" He reached for Jensen's hand and was surprised again that he pulled away from the affectionate gesture. "Hey, Jensen, relax. We'll take care of it. Worst case scenario, you stay with me until you find a place, okay? Seriously, dude, take it easy."

"I can't just 'relax', Jared! I need a fucking place to live, and I don't have much time to find it! He just fucking sprang this on me, so excuse me if I'm a little freaked out, okay?" Jensen broke all the way free from Jared, his posture and expression screaming his tension. His eyes were wide and his jaw knotted as he bit the words off to Jared. "It's not all fucking video games and sex, _dude_ , sometimes there are things that have to be taken _care_ of! Things that _matter_! And if I don't take care of them, who will?" Jensen turned and stomped off toward his trailer, leaving behind a wounded Jared looking after him with a hurt, confused expression.

Jared stood there a few more minutes, his head reeling. What just happened? He'd never seen Jensen so wound up. And what did "things that matter" mean? Was that some roundabout way of saying that Jared didn't matter? Their relationship didn't matter? Jared's chest tightened as he mulled the encounter over. Jensen hadn't even commented on his offer — did that not matter either? Jared groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. Should he follow Jensen and pursue this, or let it go and see if he calmed down on his own? He was stunned by the speed at which things had deteriorated during the conversation, and felt completely rudderless about what to do.

Shouts for the afternoon shooting to begin ended Jared's internal debate. Time to get to work. Maybe donning Dean's persona for a bit would help Jensen work out his angst — there was nothing like fighting even imaginary sons of bitches to burn off some frustration. Sighing, Jared began walking toward the afternoon's set, hoping the whole mess would just blow over.

Happily, shooting went well — Jensen's distress didn't keep him from being on top of his game, and he deftly steered Dean through the fighting and stunt-laden scene. Jared was relieved that the tension seemed to be in the past, and so he approached Jensen at the end of the night with an invitation to crash back at Jared's place. He thought some beer, maybe unwinding with a game on the DVR, perhaps some great, relaxing sex that Jared would be happy to provide. 

To his surprise, Jensen politely declined the invitation. 

"I'm really tired, Jared. Things have been really stressful the last couple of days, and I just need some sleep." He looked up at Jared, big green eyes glistening. "I'm really sorry about earlier. I didn't mean anything — I know you just wanted to help. I was a dick." He ducked his head down, but Jared thought he'd seen a tear start to trickle down from those too-shiny eyes. He brought his hand under Jensen's chin and tried to gently lift his face up, but Jensen shook the hand off and looked away. "It's okay, I'm just tired. I'll be fine in the morning, okay? See you at morning pick-up." He squeezed Jared's arm and walked briskly away. Jared looked after him, feeling confused again. He halfway wanted to chase after Jensen; maybe they still needed to clear the air more thoroughly? The other half of his brain, though, said to stop, let Jensen go for now. Jensen had apologized; he'd somewhat explained where he was at. Better to respect his wishes and see how things were in the morning.

Things were not that great in the morning. When the driver and Jared arrived at Jensen's apartment building, Jensen came out with sunglasses on, despite the overcast sky. As he got in the SUV, Jared noted how pale he looked, and the unaccustomed downturn at the corners of his mouth. "Hey, how you feeling this morning?" he asked softly, laying a hand on Jensen's forearm. "Get some sleep?"

"Yeah, yeah, slept great. I'm fine," Jensen answered, moving his arm so Jared's hand slipped off. "We stopping for coffee? I need a triple grande."

"Sure, yeah," said Jared, trying to ignore the chill that ran down his spine when his hand dropped from Jensen's arm. "Go to that little place up the street from the studio, please," he said to the driver. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Jensen huddle back into the plushy seat. When Jared sat back himself, it felt like a mile lay between him and Jensen, and he had no idea how to bridge it.

The next few days ran together, as they were busy wearing their Winchester personas and dealing with the monster of the week. Jensen was polite, but distant. There were no cuddles, hugs, or kisses, and tactile-oriented Jared felt starved for his boyfriend. When Jensen wasn't actively in a scene, he was holed up in his trailer. He was still pale, and Jared overheard the make-up girls complaining to each other about trying to hide the shadows under his eyes. Every time Jared approached Jensen, the other man smiled briefly — if that twitch could be called a smile — and fled to his trailer.

Jared felt queasy. What was going on? What had happened between them, or hadn't happened? Was all of this the stress of finding a place and moving? Because it just didn't seem in proportion to the issue. But if it wasn't that, what on earth was it?


	2. Chapter 2

Finger bandaged, Jared came back downstairs, taking deep breaths and resolving to keep a lid on his temper. Jensen was at the front door, lacing up his running shoes.

"How are you? Finger okay?" he asked cautiously. Jared nodded.

"Finger's fine, thanks. Um . . . sorry for flying off the handle there. Must be swap shock still, huh?"

Jensen flicked his eyes at Jared before staring at his shoelaces.

"Yeah, must be."

He looked back up and flashed a quick smile at Jared, and Jared saw his own dimples in action for the first time. Damn! Jensen laughed.

"It's different from looking at them in the mirror, isn't it? I catch myself thinking stuff like that too, like wow! Those lips are just like everyone says! You know?" He came over to Jared and reached out to touch his mouth. "All these years people been saying 'cocksucking lips' and you know what? They're absolutely right! It's crazy to see it now!"

Jared smiled and grabbed Jensen's hand, kissing it and then releasing it. "Yeah, seriously! Where you off to?"

Jensen stretched and said, "Off for a run! Just really wanted to have a run without worrying about the knees for once. Who knows when we're going to snap back into ourselves?" He looked intently at Jared. "Do you mind? I didn't mean to not ask - it's your body. Is that okay?" He bounced a little on the balls of his feet.

Jared knew that as adorable as Jensen's bowed legs were, they made it painful for him to go running. The acute angle of his leg joints put too much pressure on his knees, and he'd stopped running a couple of years ago.

"No, dude, of course not! Go for it! Enjoy!" He grinned at Jensen's delight. "We'll shower together when you get back, okay?"

"You got it! See you in a bit! Thanks, Jay!" Jensen gave him a swift kiss and bounded out the door. 

Jared had to smile as he watched his body's long legs lope easily down the sidewalk. And hey, he really _did_ have a great ass! "Who wouldn't wanna hit that? That's a fine, fine ass," he murmured to himself with a smirk. He chuckled and went back inside the house.

Left to himself for a bit, Jared was surprised to feel oddly unfocused. He decided to work on a tough section in Halo so he could surprise Jensen with his prowess next time they played. Yet he couldn't seem to settle down to it, and finally he clicked it off in frustration. He walked upstairs and picked up his current read, getting comfortable on the bed as he found his place. Yeah, this was nice. They were freshly on hiatus, and had barely started to unwind when this mysterious swapping business happened, so the sensation of relaxing felt delightful. Jared sighed happily and lost himself in his book.

For about six pages.

He sat up and smacked the book down onto the bed. Oh really, this was ridiculous! Jared was highly social, but he was perfectly able to amuse himself too. Yet here he was, restless and almost . . . pouting. Pouting! Jared shook his head as if he were brushing gnats away. What on earth was he pouting about? Because his boyfriend went on a run for once? Balls! 

By the time Jensen returned, sweaty and tired, from his run, Jared was lying on the couch with an afghan over him and the television playing with the sound off. He wasn't asleep, but he wasn't quite awake either. Once he lay down, he found himself drifting in some kind of mental fog, as if gray clouds of batting swirled around his brain. He finally registered that Jensen was kneeling next to him, stroking his face and saying "Jared?" in an anxious voice. 

"Jen . . .hey. Good run?" Jared said hazily.

Jensen looked at him with worried eyes. "Yeah, yeah, it was great. Thanks for letting me borrow your legs. Now, what about you? Are you okay? Feeling all right?" He placed a palm against Jared's forehead.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I guess I was just more tired than I thought. Lay down for some TV and kinda dozed off. I'm fine." Jared threw the afghan off and sat up, stretching his arms. "Let's go get something to eat. Take a shower, Stinky Boy, and we can find some burgers and wings, okay? And a giant beer!"

"Sure thing, sounds good. Be right down!" Jensen stood up and went up the stairs.

Jared watched him go and tried to think about the afternoon, wanting to figure out why he felt off like this. Maybe he was fighting a bug. Maybe it was just the usual hiatus collapse — something both of them had experienced before. Once the pressure and push of the season ended, it was easy for them to just shut down for a few days as they decompressed. Whatever it was, he was sure it was no big deal.

The whole roommate fiasco slowly slid into the past. It took several days, but gradually Jensen came out of his trailer more and more, like a bear at the end of hibernation. Jared felt baffled by his boyfriend's hermetic behavior, but Jensen seemed to want to just carry on as if nothing had happened, so Jared simply rolled with it. Of course, Jensen's roommate didn't kick him out before he'd found a place, so there were no threats of imminent homelessness to deal with.

And in the end, Jensen moved in with Jared.

The story around the set was how the roommate issue had cropped up, and Jared — as Jensen's titular best friend — offered him a room at his place. BFFs, co-stars, and now roomies — no sweat. In fact, it was downright cute.

No one needed to know that they were sharing a bedroom as well.

Jared loved coming home with Jensen after a long night's shooting. They would have a snack and maybe watch something or play a game to unwind, then end up kissing and naked together in Jared's California King bed. He loved waking up with Jensen in the morning, even if Jensen was one crabby-ass bastard before his first cup of coffee. The ease of their friendship cushioned the transition from buds to boyfriends, and they bypassed most of the classic roommate struggles like who needed to clean what, whose laundry was on the floor, or who left the dishes in the sink. As they had in other areas of their lives, the new housemates found themselves smoothly in sync.

Being able to have sex any time of the day or night was a pretty awesome perk of being housemates in Jared's eyes. He felt like the house must be suffused with pheromones, since both he and Jensen were ready to go at the drop of a hat . . . or their boxers. Morning, noon, or night — anytime at all was a good time for getting down and dirty. He couldn't imagine ever getting bored with or taking Jensen for granted. Beyond the physical pleasures they shared, Jensen's presence brought Jared a depth and richness that he didn't think he'd ever experienced in a relationship before.

Jared found himself annoyed when Jensen came into the room for what must be the fifteenth time. Jesus, all Jared wanted was a little peace and quiet, yet Jensen kept interrupting him. Jared, let's do this; Jared, let's do that; Jared, let's eat; Jared, let's fuck. Jared had to admit that usually he'd be right on board with that last one, but he just . . . didn't feel like it. Didn't want that in-your-face closeness, didn't want to be pressed down by Jensen's — _his_ — body or feel their sweaty skin rubbing together. It was so - so overpowering.

As Jensen left the room, looking downcast but trying to hide it, Jared sighed despondently. What the hell . . . he _loved_ Jensen. He loved it when they made love. And yet he felt so . . . confined by the mere thought of it. Jared tried to look at this weird feeling, bring his analytical skills to bear and figure out what this meant. Why did he feel a need to distance himself from his lover?

And having done just that for the last couple of days, why did he suddenly feel panic seeping through him, trickling along his nerves in cold rivulets? Panic that Jensen was going to decide Jared was too much bother, too much work. Tons of people would love to be with Jensen, would die to have sex with him. They'd never turn him away for stupid, nothing feelings. What if Jensen decided to do something about it and go find one of them?

What if he decided Jared just wasn't worth the time or effort anymore?

Tears swelled in Jared's eyes and ran down his nose as he lay on the couch, shocked into paralysis. He could see it clearly in his imagination — Jensen running downstairs, grabbing his jacket. Snatching his car keys off the rack. Stopping as he opened the door and patting his pocket to check for condoms. Whistling as he went out to the car.

Jensen was a good whistler. A _great_ whistler. Jared loved to hear him whistling in another room of the house, loved tracking him by his cheerful trail of musical notes. The thought that he'd never get to hear Jensen whistle again — Jared's heart ached. This couldn't be. It couldn't happen. It couldn't . . .

And suddenly he was kicking at the afghan, the goddamn yarn clinging to his legs as he fought free, and he was running out of the room.

"Jensen! Jen! Please, baby, I'm sorry —"

As winter moved in, the usual Canadian cold and darkness began to cloak Vancouver. This was when the bright sun and dry, baking heat of Texas was most sorely missed by both men. Despite that, Jared usually managed to romp his way through the winter. He went sledding, tried skiing — cross-country and downhill both — and enjoyed mugs of hot cocoa, occasionally laced with brandy. Sure, he cursed the bitter chill and the early sunsets like everyone else, but his intrinsically upbeat nature enabled him to enjoy what was around him.

Jared observed that Jensen didn't share his enthusiasm for winter. Jensen glowered at the snow and the cold from inside the warm living room or his cozy trailer. Jared tried coaxing Jensen into snowy games and various winter sports, but to no avail. Jensen bitched endlessly about the sunless morning skies and the frigid temperatures as he huddled inside his parka on the rides to set. Jared felt vaguely guilty, like it was his fault they were living in the inhospitable North, but finally shook that off for the ridiculous notion it was. This was where their job was, and they both had decided it was worth the price — Jensen as well as Jared. Jensen was just more of a grouch about it.

That was Jared's take on the matter, and that's how they went through the winter — with Jared's resilient optimism and Jensen's darker mood side-by-side. They still laughed and worked, loved and fucked; they simply lived with opposite points of view. Jared found himself wishing Jensen could enjoy life more, for his own sake as well as his patient boyfriend's. What was to be gained by bemoaning the unchangeable? He couldn't fully understand Jensen getting so mired down in a bad mood.

The longer the winter went on, though, the more concerned Jared became. Jensen began having quite a bit of trouble sleeping. In a physically demanding job like theirs, short sleep could easily become a hazard. A sleepy or tired actor could muff a stunt and get hurt, or accidentally hurt someone else. Fatigue could compromise the quality of an actor's performance. Jared and Jensen both prided themselves on keeping their characterizations of the Winchesters fresh and consistent. Jared began to keep an anxious eye on Jensen for any signs of problems caused by sleep deprivation. He made Jensen drink hot tea or warm milk before bed, to help relax him. He bought a white noise machine, and a new, super-soft blanket for Jensen to wrap up in. He let Jensen sleep until the last possible moment before pick-up. Jensen looked at him gratefully, thanking him for all these caring actions with kisses and brief cuddles in their between-scene downtime.

Then Jensen's eating changed. Jensen picked lightly at his meals for days, pushing his plate away long before he'd eaten his normal amount. Jared took over preparing Jensen's plates from the craft table, making sure they always had a few of his favorite staples, and picking the choicest tidbits to tempt him. He knew better than to straight out nag Jensen about eating, but he hoped his plating strategy would be enough. Then the pendulum swung, and Jensen started eating twice as much as usual for a few days, including snacking on junk food. Jensen loved junk food, but usually avoided it during the season as he kept an eye on his weight. Jared was happy to see him eating well, but the junk food puzzled him. Sure, everyone had some snacks now and then, but Jensen was always vigilant about his body and intake balance, so it was odd that he'd dive into bags of chips and cookies. That was more Jared's forte. 

This cycle of problematic eating repeated two or three times as the winter went on. Jared tried to watch what was happening without _looking_ like he was watching.

The next indication of something being amiss didn't take long to surface.

They'd been so busy filming that a couple of weeks went by before Jared realized what was happening. Despite their usual robust appetite, several days had gone by without any sex. 

"Okay, this is ridiculous! I don't care how intense our shooting schedule is, we are making time for sex!" Jared said as he shared his revelation with Jensen. "They're not going to get any more Sam and Dean if we don't get some nookie here!" He grinned at Jensen, eyes traveling over his boyfriend's beautiful face and lean, fit body.

"Yeah, yeah," said Jensen offhandedly. "Don't sweat it. It's no big, okay? It'll happen when it happens." He got up from the couch they'd been lounging on and said, "I'm gonna grab a quick shower and get ready for bed. Love you, Jay."

Jared watched him crossing to the stairs, then called after him, "Hey, how about I come shower _with_ you? Two birds, one stone, you know what I mean?" He winked at Jensen.

Jensen stiffened for a moment, then took a deep breath.

"I just want to take a quick one here, okay, big guy?"

He immediately turned away again and went upstairs, leaving Jared to look after him with a puzzled look on his face. They hadn't had sex in days, and Jensen was turning down nice, soapy shower sex? That just didn't make sense at all. Jensen was usually very up for shower sex; he liked the perks, such as the slippery ease it afforded and the lack of post-coital clean-up.

Jared sighed, flopping back onto the couch. Maybe he'd come up _after_ the shower instead. Jensen would be tucked into bed, all clean-smelling and warm, and Jared could crawl under the covers and join him . . . naked. _Mmmm, this scenario sounds promising,_ Jared thought. He imagined sliding up against Jensen, running his hands down his boyfriend's muscular back and delicious ass, slipping a finger into that tempting crack, teasing that sensitive hole. His cock was already filling out in anticipation.

When he heard the water cut off, Jared waited ten more minutes before creeping upstairs. The bedroom light was out, but there was enough ambient light from the hallway to show the lump that was Jensen under the covers. Jared stripped, tossing his clothes carelessly to one side, then lifted the blanket and slid in. Jensen's warmth drew Jared like a magnet, and he gently pressed his entire body against Jensen's, reveling in the sensuality of skin-to-skin contact with him. He exhaled long and slow, letting his fingers begin to skate over Jensen's silken skin. Ever-so-gently, he began planting soft kisses over Jensen's shoulder and cheek as his fingers glided down the slopes of Jensen's back.

"Jare?" 

"Mmmhmm. 'S me, baby. Thought I'd help you get more . . . relaxed, now that you've had your poor, lonely shower." He nudged his hips against Jensen's side, letting him feel how hared Jared's cock was already. "Feel that? That's for you, darlin', special delivery." Jared nuzzled at Jensen's ear.

He smiled when he felt Jensen's hands on him, and rolled his hips again. Jensen's sleepy voice said, "Jay? Baby, I'm sorry, I'm just really tired tonight. Rain check?"

Jared stopped moving, feeling suddenly awkward and intrusive.

"Sure, Jen, sure. Of course, rain check. You get some sleep, babe."

He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling as he listened to Jensen's breathing slow. His thoughts felt restless and disordered, and his dick wasn't paying attention to the derailment. He pressed the heel of his hand into the base of his cock and tried to think of anything but sex.

Finally he got up and went into the bathroom, closing the door softly before sitting down on the toilet lid. Taking himself in hand, Jared began a steady, fast stroke, pausing to squirt some lotion in his hand. He closed his eyes and let images of Jensen fill his mind as his slick hand worked his cock; Jensen sweaty and laughing on the set, his muscles flexing as he undressed, his whiskey voice whispering words of lust as he lay naked in their bed. It took very little time for Jared to feel his balls draw up and his orgasm pulse out into the tissues he held in readiness. His toes curled on the tile floor as he gasped and spasmed.

As soon as he was done, though, he felt empty. It felt good to let off some steam, but it wasn't just emptying his balls that he wanted. It was making love with his boyfriend, being naked together in their bed, getting the sheets all untucked and sweaty. Breathing each other's air as they kissed. Feeling that deepest of connections as they joined their bodies, worshiped each other's cock with their eager mouths. Having the physical connection reinforce and confirm the emotional one.

Not beating off, cold and alone, in the bathroom.

The worry that had underscored Jared's thoughts on and off for weeks resurfaced, and would not be silenced in the quiet of the night.

Of course, Jensen hadn't left Jared after he'd turned Jensen away. Jared could laugh about how silly he was . . . if he didn't just keep being silly. He wanted to be left alone all the time, but then fears of Jensen leaving would surface again. It felt like all Jared wanted to do was sleep, lie on the couch and watch TV, maybe huddle in front of the laptop and mindlessly surf. His appetite waxed and waned, and when it was waxing, all he wanted was comfort food — pasta, chips, casseroles. He felt bad for messing up Jensen's trim body, but he could feel his belly softening, his limbs becoming heavy and sluggish. How could they feel like lead? Jensen was strong, not as heavily muscled as Jared but still very well-muscled. And now it felt like lifting his arms was too much, like his feet were magnetically attached to the floor.

It made him want to cry.

Jared knew he was an emotional guy, always had been. He cried at weddings and sad, sappy movies. Little babies sleeping and wrinkled puppy faces made him go "aw!" and touched his soft heart. He'd accepted this and simply expressed himself as needed. No one was going to argue with the well-built, six foot four inch man about a few tears. But now?

Now he found himself staring out the window, leaning against the framing as his eyes gazed unblinkingly across the leaf-strewn — later snowy — yard. He wondered a lot about what it might feel like to just roll out of the window and down to that barren ground. To simply lie there all splayed out under the sky. To feel the earth rotate beneath his body. Would the ground be cold? Would he fly off into the sky, unfettered by gravity? Would he be absorbed into the ground?

Did he even care?

He leaned there for several minutes more, lost in his thoughts. Finally pushing off from the wall, Jared went over to the counter and got an apple. He washed it, cut it into four pieces, and got the peanut butter down. He spread some peanut butter on each piece. The serrated utility knife lay next to the plate, sticky with apple juice. Jared picked it up and ran his thumb down the edge, He gently poked the pad of his thumb with the knife's tip. In his mind, he could see the knife going into his stomach, sharp point cleaving his soft flesh, pushing through his organs and flesh. Or maybe his forearms, long slits up in the tender underside of his arm, dark red blood oozing out, falling in fat drops to spatter on the kitchen floor.

"Hey, Jay, whatcha doing? How are you feeling?" Jensen stopped when he saw the knife quivering in Jared's hand. "Jare — you okay there? Can I — can I take care of that knife for you, put it in the sink?" His hand slowly slid over Jared's cold one. "You got a snack there? That looks really good. How about we take it in the living room and watch a little something? Sound good?" Plate in one hand, Jensen took Jared's elbow with the other and started gently steering him out of the kitchen. Jared offered no resistance, moving pliantly under Jensen's direction.

Jensen settled Jared back on the couch with the plate on the coffee table and put the afghan over Jared's knees. "What sounds good? You want some action or something funny?" He walked over to the DVD rack to start slipping through the plastic cases. "I think funny, how about you?" Jared looked up as he heard a quaver in Jensen's voice and caught how his hand ran over his face and his breathing hitched. Then he cleared his throat and turned to face Jared with a lopsided smile on his face — _Jared's_ face. "How about this? We've been talking about starting _How I Met Your Mother_ — gotta love Neil Patrick Harris, right?" His eyes looked sadly at Jared, and Jared realized what everyone meant about his puppy dog eyes. Even _he_ couldn't resist them.

He cleared his throat, which felt clogged with unshed tears and unsaid words. "Sure . . . that sounds great. Isn't, um," he had to clear it again. "Isn't the witch chick from Buffy in it too? The redhead?"

"Yes! Yes, she is," Jensen said, sounding relieved that Jared was responding. He sat next to Jared, close but not touching in case Jared didn't feel like contact today, although he reached out and rubbed Jared's knee. "Have your snack, dude, and just relax a bit. I gotcha." He squeezed Jared's knee before sitting back and clicking the remote.

Jared closed his eyes. This was good. This moment was good. Maybe he could just hang onto these moments one at a time, and then he'd be okay. Because he didn't know what the hell was going on with him, but he was not okay. Not in the least.


	3. Chapter 3

Jared sat at a table in the craft tent, holding an extra-large, steaming coffee between his chilled hands. He breathed in the warmth and the rich aroma, closing his eyes and giving himself permission to simply savor this moment. He exhaled slowly and then took a sip, letting the coffee's dark, creamy flavor spread over his tongue. It was quiet here for the moment — the crew was off filming Jensen in the graveyard of the week. Jared had an hour to relax before heading off with the second crew for some close-ups and reaction shots. So here he was, savoring a fresh latte and musing about life.

Life was so good right now. He knew he was fucking lucky as hell. He had a top billed, starring role in a television show. He had a loving family and wonderful friends. He wasn't too hard to look at, and was healthy and strong. He had enough money to live very comfortably. And he had Jensen. His heart felt like it clenched when he thought about how much he loved his boyfriend. Jensen was so gorgeous, so talented, such a fantastic mix of earthy and sophisticated. He was smart and snarky and sensual, and he loved _Jared_. Jared shook his head — he was always amazed when he thought about Jensen wanting to be with him. Fucking lucky indeed.

He took another sip as he braced himself to keep going. Everything was going so well. 

Except . . . it kinda wasn't.

Jared closed his eyes and rubbed them. They felt scratchy, and his fingers pulled at his dry lids. Something was up with Jensen. Jared was willing to bet anything that _they_ were okay, that it wasn't their relationship going awry. Whatever _it_ was, was affecting the relationship, sure. But the relationship itself wasn't the root issue.

He just didn't know what _was_ the root issue. And Jensen refused to talk about it. At all. He simply said everything was fine and told Jared he loved him and went into the other room. Or went to bed. Or went somewhere.

Jared wasn't buying it anymore. Jensen meant everything to him, and something was _wrong,_ and Jared wanted to make it better. That's how he worked. Jensen's constant denial and evasion were slowly amping up Jared's concern and anxiety, and he wanted — _needed_ — to dig out the problem and excise it.

"Hey, Jared," said a lilting female voice. A young woman sat down at the table with her own steaming cup. Her brown hair was cropped to her earlobes, which were pierced three times each and ornamented with little silver hoops. She wore a sensible fleece over a rainbow-striped turtleneck with jeans and the ubiquitous duck boots the crew favored for the sloppy Canadian mud and snow. Her blue eyes sparkled at Jared as she drank from her cup and sighed in pleasure. "Don't you love a nice hot beverage mid-morning? I do love a quick break for a fresh cuppa around now." 

"I sure do, Lynnie. Only it's coffee for me." He raised his cup to her and drank. "Always a pleasure to share a cup with you, though!" Whenever Jared wasn't filming at this hour, he'd come here for a quick cup and, often as not, meet Lynnie doing the same. They'd met during his first week on-set, and she'd been the first crew member who hadn't made a big deal about either his age or his height. Mutual respect had grown into friendship, and she was one of the very few on-set personnel who knew about the real relationship between Jensen and him.

"So, what's up, big Jay? You were looking pretty serious here. Is everything okay?" Her face showed concern as she leaned forward, dropping her voice for privacy. 

Jared looked down, unable to meet her sharp gaze. "No, no, everything's fine. Just fine." He looked off to the side before looking back at her and smiling. He could feel how fake the smile was.

She shook her head. "Oh, come on, Jay. You're a terrific actor, but you aren't fooling me for a minute. I can see the furrows in that brow that say something is up. Now," and she raised her hands, palms facing him, "you don't have to tell me, of course. No harm, no foul. But . . . if you want to unburden yourself, I am a judgment-free zone." She picked up her cup and blew on it before sipping cautiously.

Tears unexpectedly pricked Jared's eyes at her offer. God, he'd love to offload his worry. To feel he wasn't alone in his concern. He opened his mouth, shut it again, sighed. She patted his hand as it rested on the table, hers looking so small as it rested on his. He sighed again and gave in.

"It's Jensen. I don't even know what's wrong, Lynnie. I just know that something _is_. He won't talk about it, or he can't, I don't know which. It's not us, you know? He and I — we're good. But something is eating at him, pulling him down, and I can't help if I don't know what it is! I just . . ." Jared's voice broke. "I just want to help him. He's so great — he deserves to be as happy as he can be. And . . . I'm worried. Without even knowing what I'm worried about."

Lynnie sat quietly for a minute, her hand still resting on Jared's. "It's okay, man. I get it. You know, we always joke around about supernatural shit here on set. But sometimes there _are_ things that are . . . difficult to explain. Things that you have to kind of have to take on faith, you know? And I'm going to tell you about one of them now."

"My granny is very . . . I guess you could say, she's very Old World. Her family lived all tucked away on a little farm, and their traditions were a big, big thing to them. Even when she finally emigrated, she remained very steeped in her traditions. Now, I'm not saying she has psychic powers or anything, but she did subscribe to a deep belief in what we'd probably now call 'kitchen magic' — old wives' lore handed down through the years, using common ingredients found in the kitchen accompanied by simple words or phrases." Her clear eyes studied Jared, as if to gauge the effect of her words.

Jared nodded. "Okay, I'm following you so far. I remember my Polish granny, my _babunia,_ muttering over a simmering pan, and then when I'd ask, she'd shoo me away. 'Not for curious little boys! Don' want your ears to fall off!' she'd say. But — I don't think it actually "did" anything. My mom and dad would just humor her while they rolled their eyes a little."

Lynnie laughed, a warm noise ringing in the cold air. "I know what you mean! They just wanted us out of the kitchen, right?" she said. Then she sobered and spoke softly, "But some of it? Some of it is real, Jared. And my granny passed a lot of what she knew down to me. Nothing huge — I can't turn anyone into a frog or anything!" She winked at Jared. "But there are some things I can do . . . like maybe find out about a problem, or a secret." She fell silent, watching Jared, waiting for his reaction.

He sat there staring at her. Were they really having this conversation? She was telling him that she knew this "kitchen magic" crap, and could find out what was going on with Jensen. Did he believe this? _Really?_ His dignity as a modern-era, scientifically influenced man struggled to accept her words. 

But . . . did he have anything to lose?

If they could really utilize her knowledge to uncover the source of Jensen's distress, then shouldn't they do it? Jared had talked and cajoled Jensen and gotten nowhere. Jensen was still struggling with something, and he wasn't winning. If this didn't hurt anyone, then — what was the harm? Worst case scenario was nothing happened. Best case . . . 

Best case was Jensen got to be happy.

Done deal.

Jared looked at Lynnie. "I'm in. What do you need from me?"

Lynnie nodded at him. "Okay, then! I have all the materials I need, I just have to get them together. Meet you here tomorrow? Or the next day, depending on your shooting schedule, okay?" They got up and hugged, Jared wrapping his arms around the young woman. 

"Thanks, Lynnie. Thank you!"

It was good to feel some hope.

Jared lay on the bed, eyes open in the dark. Jensen lay sleeping next to him, rolled onto his side facing away from Jared. Jared could hear his soft, rhythmic breathing, broken by the occasional snuffle.

Jared wished he were asleep. He didn't have any trouble sleeping during any other time, why should 3:17 a.m. be a problem? But apparently it was, and so here he lay, rigid on the bed, eyes staring into the dark as if to penetrate the secrets of the night.

A half hour later, after checking the clock every few minutes with increasing annoyance, Jared sighed and gave up. He got up and pulled a hoodie on over his T-shirt, stuffed his feet into slippers, and went downstairs. He lay down on the couch and pulled the afghan up before clicking the TV on and checking through the channels. Documentaries, Headline News, lame comedies, bad movies. He sat for a while watching _Saturday Night Fever_ , fascinated by the dancing, the twirling, the lights and flash. So bright and colorful. Why did he feel that life was so gray these days, so flat and colorless? Where did all that brightness and energy go?

There was a marathon of _NCIS_ reruns on another channel, and he settled on that. He loved the mix of case stories and humor; the affectionate banter of the team contrasted well against the hardcore crimes they investigated. Gibbs was a major silver fox, and if he and Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo weren't knocking boots, well, they sure wanted to be. Jared remembered enjoying banter and flirting. Recently, even. Somehow, that had all leeched away, like water evaporating and exposing a old bed of cracked, dry mud, and he didn't understand why. It was all so difficult to think about; his thoughts were sliding and squirming away, and in the end he'd end up back where he started, so fuck it. He relaxed against the pillow propped against the sofa arm and watched until his lids grew heavy and closed of their own accord.

Jared sat on a kitchen stool at the breakfast counter, an envelope on the counter before him. Inside the envelope, he knew, were two paper packets, each one with a couple of spoonfuls of various herbs and spices. A paper with instructions was stuck to the outside. "Boil two cups of purified (blessed) water. Pour into two mugs and say the following words over them: "Show me the darkened path and guide me to the light." Empty one packet into each cup and stir five times. Speak the name of the person of concern three times and stir another five times. Both should drink to the dregs, and then pour the dregs into the plant closest to your back door. Repeat the sentence about the dark path two more times as you pour out."

Lynnie had slipped the envelope to him before hiatus, three weeks ago. Jared had felt excited at first, but as the days had gone by, his excitement melted and was replaced by apprehension. What kind of hocus-pocus was this? What would this stuff even do? And then the shameful thought — _Do I really want to know what it will do? How badly do I actually want to know what's plaguing Jen?_ That one made Jared blush and feel lower than a worm. He shouldn't be thinking about his own fears right now — he should be helping his partner.

He slapped the counter top and stood up. Enough vacillating. It was time to act.

Tea brewed according to the directions, he brought the mugs out to Jensen. "Hey, picked up some new tea I thought you might like," he said cheerfully, praying with all his might that Jensen would drink it without further question. "Here, try it." He picked up his own mug and sniffed. It smelled rich and cinnamony. He'd already done the speaking and stirring steps in the kitchen.

Jensen took the mug and likewise sniffed. "Yeah, spicy but kinda orangey too," he agreed, and took a sip. "Mmm, nice. Thanks." He smiled at Jared, who felt there alone was a victory.

They drank the tea quietly together, sitting next to each other on the couch. Halfway through, Jared put his arm around Jensen, who snuggled against his side. Jared closed his eyes, just enjoying his boyfriend's closeness. It felt like it had been a long time since they'd done this.

He was almost done with his mug when Jensen said, "Oh, this must have been loose tea. I've got a lot of dregs at the bottom."

"Oh, sorry, babe, I'll take care of that. Why don't you find a movie or something, and we'll watch it when I get back?" Jared stood and took Jensen's mug, carrying them both carefully into the kitchen. Both had about an inch of tea in the bottom, along with a good deal of herby-looking bits and swirls of powder. He eased the back door open, keeping an ear peeled for Jensen all the while. Jared stepped outside to look for the closest plant. His eye was caught by a large shrub a foot or so away from the doorway. He moved close, then looked around just to double check.

A tendril of green caught his eye. There at his feet, _thisclose_ to the back door, was a curling vine of some type. _Wow, that's certainly the closest,_ he thought. _I never noticed that before._ He held both mugs over the little plant and let the contents dribble out over it, repeating the same words again. He shook the mugs gently to be sure they were empty and stood up to go back inside. Of course it had to be his imagination, but as he stepped inside, he could have sworn he saw the little vine . . . wriggle.

Coming back into the kitchen, he leaned heavily on the edge of the sink, feeling as if his bones could barely hold up his body. _Please let this work,_ he thought, heart aching as he said his own little prayer. _I know this is all kinda wacko, but right now it's my only shot at finding out what's wrong. Please. I love him so much._

Jared woke up with a start. _NCIS_ was still playing on the television. Ducky was explaining some obscure point of forensic medicine to the team. He clicked the TV off, slowly sitting up in the quiet of very early morning. He'd been dreaming, and the vestiges of the dream still clung to him. There'd been a mirror, and he'd kept looking into it, but it never showed his face. The mirror showed his dad's face, Kripke's face, his brother Jeff's face, so many other faces, but not his, never his. Jared kept looking away and looking back, but the parade of faces continued. Finally he looked in and saw Jensen's face. Not Jensen as he knew him, handsome with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. This Jensen was shadowed, his cheeks sunken, a pallor on his skin. Dark rings lay under his eyes, draining them of their sparkle. His look seemed to cry out for help, and Jared's heart was stricken.

"I'm trying, Jen! I'm trying! The tea was supposed to help somehow, supposed to show me something. What is it? Please, Jen, tell me what it is! God, I feel so helpess," Jared could feel tears trickling down his face as he begged the image to speak. 

The mirror darkened, then broke in a spiderweb of cracks, bits of glass tinkling onto the floor.

Jared decided to check in on Jensen, who had gone to bed after they'd watched a bit of TV together. Now that they had drunk the tea, Jared found himself anxious for what might happen next. Would Jensen just start talking about it? But there was nothing — simply a little cuddling on the couch, and then Jen going upstairs to get into bed.

Jared eased the bedroom door open. The crack of light from the hallway was enough to show him Jensen's form, but everything else was still lost in shadows. Jared crept quietly to the head of the bed. He could see the silhouette of Jensen's hair against the pillow. Kneeling down, Jared thought about allowing more light into the room, but with Jensen's sleep problems, he didn't want to wake him up. Instead, he gently pressed his lips against Jensen's forehead, then trailed his thumb down Jensen's cheekbone. It felt wet under the pad of Jared's thumb. Jared caught his breath — Jensen had come up here after their cuddling, changed for bed, gotten under the covers . . . and cried? Jared's heart gave a pang at that lonely image. _Oh, baby, I would have come up. You coulda talked to me. Don't you know there's nothing I wouldn't do to help you feel better?_ Jared dropped his thumb to the pillowcase and ran it under Jensen's cheek.

It was soaked.

Jared's eyes stung. Not even just a few sad, lonely tears, but a storm of them. Jensen had just lain up here, sobbing, and Jared had had no idea. How much more was he hiding? How many other clues was Jared missing?

When was he going to find out what was going on?

Jared skinned out of his clothes and slid into bed behind Jensen. He needed to feel his lover's skin and warmth against his body. He needed to share _his_ skin and warmth with Jensen, try to let him know that he was not alone. Burying his nose in the back of Jensen's neck, Jared allowed the fatigue of his constant worrying to wash over him. Despite his fears, he was asleep in a few minutes.


	4. Chapter 4

Jensen lay in bed, having woken up when Jared got up and went downstairs, but only opening his eyes as Jared closed the bedroom door behind him. He felt sadly sure that Jared would end up on the couch, lying under the afghan and watching middle-of-the-night television. Jensen sighed and closed his eyes, thinking back over everything that had happened since the first morning of the body swap.

The morning they had swapped, the sun had sent sneaky rays of light between the curtains; annoying little intruders that had poked at Jensen's head, making him wake up. He'd groaned softly and rolled over, trying to bury his head in the welcoming pillow. He remembered how he'd felt so warm and boneless; the sheets had been just the right temperature, the mattress had cradled his body perfectly. Jared had been snugged up tightly behind him. Jensen had sighed and pushed his way upright, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. He'd needed to pee something fierce. Something had felt a little off as he moved — he'd felt strangely gangly, his limbs heavier than usual. He figured his muscles were a little sore from doing nothing but lounging around, as he was currently on hiatus. He'd rubbed his hands over his face and practically yelped in shock at the long hair spilling over his fingers.

Jensen had jumped out of bed and almost fallen on the floor. What was wrong with his legs? Why were they . . . so _long?_ He'd felt massive all over, running his hands down his chest and realizing that his normally well-toned and fit chest now boasted substantial pecs and scruff, and that his own flat belly was now ridged in a major six-pack. He cupped his crotch and goddammit if his dick wasn't larger now. He'd opened the waistband of his pajamas and his jaw had dropped. He'd know that cock anywhere. He'd had enough sex with it to recognize it immediately.

It was Jared's.

Confused, Jensen had made his way downstairs and started coffee, hoping the caffeine would help him figure out what was going on. He marveled at the clarity of his vision all the while. He was used to walking around in a haze until he put in his contacts, or found wherever he'd left his glasses the night before. Now, everything was crystal clear just like that.

He heard a soft thump from upstairs, so he went to the staircase and debated yelling up to Jared. Instead, he went up the stairs . . . three at a time. It was remarkably easy when you had legs like a freakin' giraffe. If only his hair didn't keep getting into his eyes. How on earth did Jared deal with this mop every day? If it were up to Jensen, it would be as short as Jensen's regular hair. Enough to grip, not enough to get in the way. But the legs — the legs were awesome! Straight as a ruler and long as sin. Jensen was used to being entangled with those long, strong legs, but driving them was a whole different experience. 

And the junk was awesome too.

Now, Jensen was very fond of his dick. They'd shared a lot of good times together. He was well-endowed, yet still proportional — no complaints there. He'd received many compliments on both its appearance and performance through the years. Jared was extremely fond of it as well, and made sure that he apprised Jensen of that fact often, usually with rousing orgasms.

But holy cow, Jared was packing some serious heat! It wasn't a surprise to Jensen; he was exceedingly familiar with Jared's cock in every way possible. He knew how it tasted, how it smelled, how to get it hard and leaking within moments. That cock had made him cry and squeal and scream. But it still wasn't the same as walking around with the damn thing attached to him. Jensen had to resist the temptation to constantly stick his hand in his pants and play with it, just because he could. He marveled that Jared ever got anything done at all. Even now, it was wagging as he walked, keeping him aware of its weight and presence. He understood now why Jared rarely went commando.

He walked into the bedroom, but didn't see Jared. Jensen stuck his head into the en suite, and there was Jared, sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall with a look of shock on his face. Jared looked up at him and yelped. "Jensen! What the fuck is going on? _Why do we have each other's faces on?"_

They made it downstairs finally, after patting each other's faces to make sure they were really inside the other's body, holding on to each other as they moved toward the kitchen. Jensen carefully poured coffee for Jared — coordination was a whole new ball game with different muscles and limbs. He turned to slide the mug over and caught Jared studying his new hand. "It's so weird," Jared whispered. "I know this body so well — the freckles, the hands, the face. But it's so different from the inside." He reached for his mug and bumped it, slopping coffee to the counter. "Shit, Jensen, I can't even see right! Is this really what it's like for you?"

Jensen nodded. "Oh yeah, I forgot! I'll give you my — your — contacts. Or the glasses, whichever you'd prefer. That will take care of the vision problem. Just — what the hell happened to us, dude? This is fucking crazy!" His stomach grumbled. "What, I'm hungry? I don't normally eat in the morning, and certainly not at 8:30 a.m.!"

Jared grinned. "Big body, big appetite. I need a lot of fuel, so get chowing. And I don't know what happened, just that I woke up as you. You have any ideas?"

Jensen shook his head, running his hands through long hair and pushing it out of his face. No wonder Jared was always doing that! "Not right now. I went through pretty much the same thing — woke up, realized things were wrong, looked in the mirror and saw your mug staring back at me. Gotta say, dude . . . nice equipment!" He leered at his lover, who cuffed him in response.

"Jesus, Jen, you'd think you never licked that dick before!" Jared laughed and grabbed his crotch. "It's kinda fun swapping like this, isn't it?" He flexed his pelvis at Jensen. "You're so pretty . . . all over!"

Jensen laughed too and flipped Jared off.

"Okay there, buckaroo, one thing at a time! I gotta feed your huge carcass, apparently, and you need to fix your little vision issue. Then we can see if we can figure out what is going on here. I feel like we stepped into an episode of the show! Too bad we can't just call Bobby, right?"

"It's pretty Freaky Friday for sure, but there's got to be an explanation. We'll get to the bottom of it, okay?" Jared reached out to pull Jensen close, wrapping his arms around the other man. "Damn, I really am a big son of a bitch! I don't know how you manage to handle me, dude, I feel fucking petite next to you right now!" He nuzzled at Jensen's ear. "So weird to be shorter than you, Jen. I mean, me. Fuck — I think we need to explore all the . . . possibilities this affords us . . ."

Jared tilted his face up to kiss Jensen, who closed his eyes as he realized that he didn't quite want to watch himself kissing his own face. Damn, this was confusing . . . but oh, the kiss was every bit as passionate, as hot, as the first time . . . were his lips really this soft? Was this what everyone meant when they stared at his mouth? In a kiss this good . . . did it really matter? He lost himself in the bliss of kissing Jared.

After eating, they went upstairs and made love. It was as pleasurable as ever, but feeling the sensations in the opposite body was both exciting and distracting. Jensen thought he'd lose his mind when Jared blew him using Jensen's plush mouth, and Jared whimpered loudly when Jensen fucked him with Jared's big dick. They collapsed together and fell asleep.

And so the next few days had passed. Jensen enjoyed a long run without dealing with the knee issues his bow legs created. They explored each other's body and got used to seeing their "own" face on the other man. Jensen didn't know how the hell this had happened, but he was going on faith that at some point, whatever changed them would change them back. Right now, he was simply coasting.

The coasting ended when it became clear that Jared was, more and more, having a hard time. With everything.

Jensen knew just how it felt. Knew the isolation, the alienation, the darkness that wrapped around one from the inside. Knew the jagged edges inside one's brain that ripped up thoughts into confetti and emotions into turmoil. Knew the emptiness that replaced the love and contentment of daily life. All of the dark thoughts and feelings that he'd carefully hidden from Jared.

Now, he had to watch it encroach on Jared instead.

He saw Jared begin to lose energy, vegging out on the couch all the time. Saw Jared, bottomless pit Jared, picking at his food. Saw him waking up in the middle of the night, with fatigue inducing an uneven and volatile temper and painting shadows under his eyes. Saw him slinking away because he didn't want to make love anymore. 

Saw the sadness in Jared's eyes be matched only by his confusion. Because Jared didn't have a clue about what was going on. He was adrift on a sea he'd never sailed, and the waves were crashing over the deck.

But Jensen had a clue. He didn't have all the answers, but he had the general idea. There were some things about himself that he'd never shared with his boyfriend, and as he watched Jared's suffering increase, Jensen felt increasingly guilty about that. This wasn't dealing with wonky knees, or fuzzy vision. This was shit with a capital S.

Back when Jensen had first moved to L.A., fresh out of high school, he'd felt pretty blue for quite a while. Being a level-headed guy, he figured this wasn't too unexpected. He was pretty young, after all, and he'd left home — he'd left the whole freakin' state — to try to break into a fast-paced, cut-throat business, where art knelt before money. Why wouldn't he be depressed?

Then he'd landed the role of Eric Brady in a top soap opera, and that should have taken care of everything. He was hot, working, making friends and launching a career. Hell, he won a freakin' Daytime Emmy! He was on top of the world!

Except he wasn't. He felt like he was treading water in a black, muddy swamp and barely keeping his head from sinking. His confusion about what was going on only intensified his distress — why couldn't he make some sense of this? He had no frame of reference to figure out what was going on.

At some point, he'd seen a studio doctor. He asked Jensen a dozen perfunctory questions and then handed him a prescription for Prozac. Jensen felt stunned that he might need an anti-depressant, but he felt crappy enough to try it. "Give it a good six weeks," the doctor warned. "It'll take that long to get up to speed in your system and really help with the depression."

Next, please.

He took the Prozac. He waited the six weeks. Half the time, he wanted to quit the soap, wanted to fucking high-tail it back to Texas and hide in his room from the grabby, gross people in the business, always wanting more of him than he was willing to give. The other half, he loved his job — loved creating that magical world of Salem and poor, hunky Eric Brady's messy life. And that kept him going.

Six months after he started the Prozac, Jensen flushed the rest of it down the toilet. Instead of feeling better, he felt muddled, foggy, and constantly kind of . . . stoned. It was harder and harder to act, much less even keep his damn storyline straight. And the cottonmouth was heinous. Every time he was off camera, he was guzzling water. The payoff wasn't worth the cost — hell, there was no payoff, no benefit. No more shrink meds for him — he was an upstanding, strong-minded Texas boy, he'd be just fine without that psychological bullshit.

And a lot of the time he was.

Except for the times he wasn't.

Despite the emotional morass that Jensen often found himself slogging through, he was adamant about not taking anything again. The side effects of the anti-depressant had been as bad as the problem itself, so he wasn't going that route. He'd weather it head on.

As the years went on, Jensen acclimated to the frequent dreariness that shadowed his days. He attributed much of it to living in Canada, where he'd moved after leaving _Days of Our Lives_. A lot of American TV shows shot up there, and he joined the expat acting community when he wasn't on breaks in L.A. Canada meant long, cold, dark winters, far from family and most of his friends. He was able to go from show to show — a year here, a couple of years there — the role jumping being part of the demanding nature of his work. He learned to fake it through the dark days, patting himself on being such a top-notch actor that he was able to conceal his true feelings.

The very darkest days, he hid from everybody, retreating under a comforter in his trailer or on his couch at home. It didn't even feel unnatural anymore.

When Jensen moved in with Jared, he wondered if maybe that would be over now. He was in love, he was _loved_ — surely the darkness would recede now? The senseless anxiety, the unreasonable reactions at the flick of an internal switch — they would fade away? He loved Jared so much, wanted them to be nothing but happy together; it was worth every scrap of energy he had to make that come true.

He tried so damn hard, hid it for all he was worth. And still he ended up tumbling down, emotionally hollowed out and then suffused with the aching, empty darkness.

It wasn't fair. It fucking wasn't fair. He had a great role in a great show, he was in excellent health, and now he was living with a man he adored, a man who was kind and funny and exciting and oh, scorching hot. He should be happy.

What the hell was _wrong_ with him?

And now, it was affecting Jared. Sunny, cheerful, adorable Jared, who was spending hiatus in the dark living room, watching TV, picking at his meals. Energetic Jared, lounging restlessly on the couch. Frisky Jared, evading Jensen's touch. And it was all Jensen's fault.

Jensen brooded over the situation, trying to make some mental notes about what was going on. It had been a long time since he'd really looked at this problem. He'd simply become inured to it, and it was only seeing Jared struggling that reawakened his awareness of it. First point — whatever this was had plagued Jensen, but now it was affecting Jared. The only thing Jensen could think of was that it must therefore be a physical problem, tied to his body. If it were solely emotional or mental, Jensen would still be the one suffering from it, not Jared. But Jensen felt fine — in fact, now that he thought about it, he felt better than he could ever remember feeling in years. He felt calm, able to shrug off the minor annoyances that previously would have sent his temper flaring or his anxiety soaring. He felt . . . cheerful. He thought about how he'd enjoyed his run yesterday, and the weather, and just . . . everything.

Was this how people felt? Like . . . all the time?

Was this normal?

Jensen hastily shut that line of thought off. As good as he felt, he didn't quite think he could bear to analyze normal vs. Jensen right now. The shadow of what he might have been missing most of his adult life was pushed to the back of his mind for the moment. Back to concentrating on Jared.

So there must be a physical cause underlying this. Well then, the logical idea was to begin by seeing a doctor. Jensen remembered the brusque doctor in New York City with his perfunctory questions and ready prescription pad, and shuddered. But that wouldn't happen this time, because he and Jared had a fine doctor here in Vancouver that they were very pleased and comfortable with. He didn't have a problem with taking Jared in to see Dr. Haine and start the ball rolling. He still thought they would find themselves swapped back at some point, but who knew when that would happen, and Jared couldn't wait. He needed help _now_.

After a quick call, Jensen obtained an appointment for the next day. Now he just had to tell Jared about it. As he feared, the news was not well-received.

"What? Jen, no. I don't need to see a doctor. I just need to rest, and I'll feel better soon."

"Jen, NO! I don't want to see the doctor! Leave me alone!"

"Fuck! Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone? I'm fine! Fuck off!"

"JENSEN! What the fuck is the matter with you? Stop hounding me about the goddamn doctor! _You_ go see her, if you want to go so bad! I'm not going! FUCK YOU!"

The last exclamation was accompanied by the full glass of soda flying across the living room, shattering against the far wall and painting it with huge wet splatters. Jared froze in his seat on the couch, looking at the mess with huge eyes. Jensen was momentarily distracted by how big his real eyes could get. They were like anime eyes. It was endlessly odd to see your body from outside.

"Jen . . . oh, Jen, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't — it just, like, snaps in me, something _snaps_ and I do stuff I didn't mean to do, and I didn't want to do it at all." Big tears welled up and began sliding down his cheeks. "Please, baby, please don't be mad. I'll clean it all up. I'm so sorry." His words hitched as he fought a sob, his hands working in the afghan, fingers knotting in the yarn.

Jensen's eyes teared up as well, as he watched his sweet, good-natured boyfriend slowly collapse with guilt and shame over his anger and careless action.

"It's okay, Jay, it's okay. I know you didn't mean it. You sit, I'll clean it up, I don't want you to hurt yourself. I got it. 'S okay, shhh shhh shhh. Not mad, not mad at all." He gave Jared some tissues and hugged him, rocking back and forth a little. "Shhh, don't cry."

When Jared calmed down, Jensen went to get the trashcan from the kitchen and a sponge. He carefully collected the glass shards, then wiped down the wall. Putting everything back in the kitchen, he came out and found Jared asleep, clutching the afghan to his neck, cheeks still damp. His heart broke. "Oh, baby, I'm gonna take care of you. I'm so sorry, never would have wished this on you." He kissed Jared gently on the forehead and went upstairs to lie down himself. He felt absolutely drained.

The next morning, Jensen was not surprised to wake up alone in bed. He went downstairs and, sure enough, Jared was asleep on the couch. He'd probably just stayed asleep once he'd dozed off after the fight. Jensen kissed his cheek, and Jared woke up, glancing around confusedly for a minute. "Hey sleepyhead," Jensen said. "You slept down here last night. Everything's okay."

Jared nodded and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, I was really tired after . . . well, you know." He looked at Jensen with an anxious expression. "I'm really sorry about yelling and losing my temper like that. And so, uh, I decided I should go to the doctor with you today. I really," his voice broke, "I really haven't been feeling too great, you know? So, better that we check it out, right?"

Jensen's heart felt like a fist was squeezing it. "Yeah, buddy, I think we need to check it out. And, um, I think — there's some stuff I think I need to tell you about. Stuff about . . . me. I should have told you before this, but I was . . . kind of ashamed about it. Embarrassed. But you need to know, so let's go make some breakfast and talk before we head out to Dr. Haine, okay?" He stood up and reached for Jared's hand. Jared nodded and got up, taking Jensen's hand and walking into the kitchen with him. This was going to be hard, but he owed Jared the full back story. It was a confession already overdue.


	5. Chapter 5

Later that morning, Jared and Jensen sat waiting patiently in the examination room at the doctor's office. Jared had been very quiet since Jensen's recounting of his history during breakfast, keeping his eyes on his plate as Jensen spoke. Jensen was anxiously wondering what Jared thought of it all, but he didn't press it; he knew he'd dumped a lot on his boyfriend all at once, and he was content to give Jared some time to process. He was just relieved that Jared had come around to accept the doctor's visit on his own.

A brief rap on the door announced Dr. Haine's arrival, who entered briskly with a big smile for the two men.

"Hey, guys, how are you doing? What's going on today?"

Her smile was warm even as her dark eyes alertly studied them. Her slim figure was clothed in a simple red knit shell and black pants, with the traditional white lab coat open over it, and her dark hair was clipped up away from her face. She looked professional and kind in equal measure.

Sitting in the waiting room earlier, they had quietly whispered an agreement to simply portray the persona of the face they wore. Their current situation was too fantastic to try and explain.

'Jared' now said, "Jensen has been feeling crappy for a while now, and I persuaded him to come in and let you check him out."

"Good advice! Okay, Jensen, what seems to be the trouble?"

She sat on the stool next to the counter that her laptop rested on, waiting for 'Jensen' to speak.

"Well, uh . . . I'm tired a lot, but I'm not sleeping well. Spending a lot of time just flaked out on the couch. I'm not very hungry, and even when I am, it's kinda hard to eat. I don't, uh . . . I'm not interested in sex." He cleared his throat nervously. "And I get angry really quickly, like a switch flicks inside me and — boom." He paused, trying to surreptitiously wipe a treacherous tear sliding down his cheek. "Everything is just really . . . gloomy. Like, I don't know how to be happy anymore."

Dr. Haine pressed a couple of tissues into his hand. "It's okay, Jensen," she said softly. "Just say what you can. We're here to figure out what's making you feel so bad, okay? Take your time."

'Jensen' took a deep breath. "I just feel shitty all the time. I'm either sad or mad, mostly sad. I don't want to do anything, go anywhere. And he," he gestured to 'Jared', "he's being so patient, and I feel so bad that he's gotta put up with this."

'Jensen' wiped his eyes and nose with a tissue in one hand, as he held onto 'Jared's' hand in the other.

"Dude, don't worry about that. I love you. I just wanna help you feel better."

'Jared' tried to reassure his partner, all the while feeling a yawning cavern of guilt inside himself. The real Jared was suffering because of the real Jensen's problem, and it was tearing Jensen up inside to watch. Now he could understand the concerns Jared had had before the swap, which he had deliberately ignored at the time. Well, he'd learned his lesson, and now they were going to fix this shit.

Dr. Haine typed some notes into her laptop, and now she got up to examine 'Jensen'. She looked into his eyes, his ears, his nose, and his throat. She checked his pulse and blood pressure. His reflexes flexed properly, his lungs sounded clear, and he didn't have a fever. She ran through a quick neurological test with him, and tapped all the results into her laptop again. Then she sat and faced them.

"Okay, here's my initial finding. Jensen, you seem to be in good health. I don't see any signs of illness or infection, and despite the poor eating and sleeping, your weight is good and you haven't really lost any muscle tone as of now. Your blood pressure is very slightly up, but I think that's the anxiety working, and not a real health issue." She looked back and forth to them. "Jensen, I'm asking at this point if you'd like Jared to stay or to wait for you in the waiting room."

'Jensen' grabbed 'Jared's' hand. "Stay, please. I don't care what it is, he can hear it."

Dr. Haine smiled. "That's what I expected you to say, but I had to ask. Okay, so I think what's going on here is that you're suffering from some pretty serious depression. I'm not talking about just feeling down or blue, like you lost a role or even that someone passed away. That's normal situational depression, and everyone experiences that in varying degrees and at different times. This is a different kind of animal altogether. We call this clinical depression, and it is — as you've found out — quite debilitating. Many areas of our life are affected by this, which then intensifies our feeling bad about ourselves."

Both men were still, focusing solely on Dr. Haine's words. 'Jared' slid an arm around 'Jensen's' shoulders, immediately feeling how his body was trembling.

"The best tool we have for handling this is medication."

'Jared' couldn't help shuddering. 'Jensen' looked at him, knowing from the confession earlier that day that he'd tried medication in the past and found it actively unhelpful.

'Jensen' turned to the doctor and said, "Uh, I was on a medication a long time ago, and it wasn't good. It didn't help, and even made me feel worse." He was so glad that 'Jared' had come clean; now they could be sure to address things with the proper information.

"Well, that's not uncommon. Early meds were not as reliably helpful or consistent as today's choices are. Anti-depressants are constantly evolving and becoming more sophisticated as we speak, and there's no comparison between early ADs and the current ones in terms of both effectiveness and side effects. I'd like you to consider starting on a low-level one as soon as possible. They do still take a few weeks to ramp up in the body."

She watched them for a minute, but seeing the reluctance in their faces, she sighed.

"Okay, I can see you two are not enthused about that option. I can suggest an alternate plan, if you like. While I'm able to prescribe the mainstream ADs and diagnose broad issues like clinical depression, there are specialists we can consult as well." 'Jared' moved as if to speak, and Dr. Haine raised her hand. "Bear with me one minute and let me explain."

"When we deal with the area of mental health, we have a two pronged approach. On one hand, we address the medication side by consulting a psychiatrist. These specialists deal exclusively with diagnosis and prescriptions, and have a much deeper and wider ranging knowledge of that field than I do. That is _all_ they do. The other part is seeing a psychologist for therapy. This isn't "what happened in my childhood", Freudian-type therapy, but talk therapy that's geared to helping you deal with your condition. You'd learn to face and cope with the thoughts and behaviors that the depression wreaks upon you. You get to vent without feeling you are burdening your partner or family. If you'd prefer, we can cut right to the chase and set up those appointments as soon as possible." She looked at them, noting the stricken expressions on both faces. "Listen, why don't you take a few minutes and talk about it, okay? I have a couple of calls to make, and then I'll check back here with you." She squeezed 'Jensen's' shoulder as she passed him on the way to the door. "We're going to make this better. I'm not going to leave you hanging." And then she was gone and the door was closing.

As soon as they were alone, the two men turned to each other and hugged tightly. Jared, still in Jensen's body as it sat on the examining bench, whimpered quietly into Jensen's shirt.

Jensen held him and whispered in his ear, "We got this, baby. Hear her? We're going to fix this. And then I'm gonna spend the rest of my life making this up to you." Tears flooded his eyes. "I am so fucking sorry, Jay. Sorry I put you through this before. Sorry you have to deal with it now. But we're going to make everything better, I promise."

He kissed Jared's — his own — spiky light brown hair. God, how he missed Jared's real hair now, missed running his fingers through the dark, silky strands. He idly wondered how they were ever going to swap back. _If_ they were ever going to swap back.

That night in bed, they snuggled together, Jared's need for comfort overriding his anxiety about being close. They didn't even think about sex, but simply held each other, exchanging some soft kisses now and then. Jensen appreciated being in Jared's body right now — he felt so big and protective, holding Jared with this tall frame and these long limbs. He wished hard, though, that they could be back inside themselves again. Wonky eyes, crabby knees, fucked-up brain — he'd take it all back if it would spare Jared this emotional maelstrom.

Three days later, they were ushered into the psychiatrist's office. Jensen was unsurprised at the overstuffed bookshelves, but the general untidy appearance of the office did surprise him a little. He guessed he'd thought that someone whose career was sorting people out would be better organized himself. The psychiatrist was almost as tall as Jared's body, but stoop-shouldered and balding, a ruff of curly, steel-gray hair festooning his head. Gold wire glasses sat on his nose, and he frequently batted at a tie that flopped around his shirt front. He seemed gruff but pleasant, so the two men sat in the chairs before the desk relaxed a tiny bit and waited.

"Good afternoon, my name is Dr. Goldblatt. I see Dr. Haine has sent you, Jensen Ackles, for a consultation about depression. Is this correct?" He looked piercingly at 'Jensen', who nodded. "And you are . . . ?" he said, turning to 'Jared'.

"I'm his boyfriend. His . . . his partner, Jared Padalecki," 'Jared' replied.

"And Jensen, is it all right with you if I speak freely in front of your partner, Jared?"

"Yes, it is," said 'Jensen' firmly. Dr. Goldblatt's eyes twinkled as he nodded.

"Excellent! Now I understand that Dr. Haine has made a preliminary diagnosis of clinical depression, but I will do my own exam here and see if I concur with her findings, or make my own diagnosis, all right? Therefore, let us begin."

The next hour was filled with Dr. Goldblatt asking a million questions, eliciting 'Jensen's' history, posting hypothetical situations and asking for responses to them, and so on. He asked 'Jared' over a dozen questions as well, delving into his observations of 'Jensen'. He scribbled many notes as they went, jotting them onto a legal pad on his desktop.

When he was done, Dr. Goldblatt sat for several minutes staring out the window. Jared and Jensen looked questioningly at each other, but remained sitting. They both felt firm that they were not leaving without an answer.

And finally the doctor turned back to them, fixing them with a steady, yet not unkind, gaze.

"Thank you for your patience, both with the exam itself and my deliberations. I prefer to sit and digest the information just gathered before I speak out of turn, you understand?" Jared and Jensen nodded.

"Jensen, here is what I have determined from your exam. I do not believe you suffer from clinical depression, although your behavior indeed indicates depression. What I mean to say is, clinical depression is not the root cause of your malaise. Instead, I believe you have bipolar syndrome; specifically, what is referred to as bipolar type two."

Jensen felt like a bolt had gone through his heart. He saw similar shock on Jared's face. _What?_ Bipolar? Wasn't that a — a kind of crazy?

"Gentlemen! Please do not panic. I see the alarm in your faces. Take a deep breath and listen to me. Now, when I say "bipolar", you think of the old term from lurid B movies — manic depression. That term is no longer used, and indeed greatly oversimplifies the syndrome. Bipolar does indicate that the two ends of the emotional spectrum are manifested — the mania, or hyperactivity, typified by sleep trouble or lack of sleep, extravagant and grandiloquent behavior, risky sexual behavior, and so on. The flip side is the depression — essentially everything you have been experiencing."

"But, Doctor, 'Jensen' hasn't been exhibiting any of the mania behaviors! How can he be . . . bipolar?" 

The word felt so strange in Jensen's mouth, like he was acting some over-dramatic role on a cheesy movie of the week.

"Yes! Exactly. You are spot on, Jared. What Jensen is dealing with is a variation of bipolar called bipolar type two. In this part of the syndrome, there is no mania. It is primarily all depression. The depression, however, is deep and pervading, and it does _not_ respond to traditional anti-depressant medications. In fact, anti-depressants can actually _intensify_ the bipolar symptoms and make the patient more miserable."

Jensen's _Days_ days flashed before his eyes; the ineffective Prozac, the worsening symptoms and side effects. His eyes fell on Jared, who was staring at him with the same comprehension in his face. No wonder the medication had been such a failure.

'Jensen' looked back at the doctor, swallowing hard to get his throat to work properly. "So, what happens? What do we do?"

His hand started hurting, and he looked down to realize how tightly it was clutching the chair arm. He lifted it up and put it with his other hand — with 'Jared'.

"Well, just because we don't use ADs doesn't mean we don't have effective medications available. In treating bipolar syndrome, one of the first lines of attack is the use of lithium. Lithium is an old drug, from the fifties; it's extremely stable, and a large number of bipolar patients enjoy great success with very minimal side effects. That's what I'd like to start you on, Jensen. Today. Happily, lithium works rather quickly, compared to ADs, and in a couple of weeks you will start feeling the benefits of it. The other aspect of treatment is cognitive behavioral therapy, which I believe Dr. Haine explained to you. Much as in clinical depression, bipolar patients find great relief and help with talk therapy. Have you found a therapist yet, or do you need a referral?"

'Jared' said, "We found one from a referral Dr. Haine gave us. We have an appointment with him tomorrow."

He felt so numb right now; he was relieved there was something to be done, but the actual diagnosis was still bouncing around inside his brain. Bipolar. Bipolar! _Bipolar!_ The word kept echoing in his head.

Part of him wondered how much better might things have been, had he checked this out long ago. If he had pursued help instead of shoving the problem away or letting it bleed out all over the place? What might he have been spared? What might _Jared_ have been spared during the swap?

Would Jared have even chosen to stay with him, had he known? That thought sent a chill down his spine. He'd hate to think something like this would have deterred Jared, but he didn't know for sure. And that thought was followed up by the realization that he'd have to give Jared a choice now. Now that they _did_. _Be fair,_ his mind whispered. _You can't trap him like this. If he wants to go, you have to let him. You'll live. Somehow._

"Okay, Jay. Go ahead." Jensen's voice came out even, surprising him. "You can tell me anything."

He sat on the bed, facing Jared, trying to be as outwardly calm as possible, and mostly succeeding.

"Well, you were having a rough time, right? Even after you moved in, which I thought — you should be happy. But you weren't, at least not completely. And you wouldn't really talk to me about what you were thinking, or how you were feeling, or anything. Which, believe me, I totally understand now. Like, yeah, it would have been good if you had, but now I truly understand how you felt. It's so hard to try and just fucking communicate when you're feeling like this. So, I get that now."

 _Okay,_ thought Jensen. _Here it comes._

"So I was really desperate, you know? I didn't know what to do, how to help you. How to understand what the problem was. And I was talking with Lynnie, you know, on the crew? I didn't tell her anything, I just said how I needed to know something, to understand what was going on, and she — she helped me. She told me all this stuff about her Old World granny, and kitchen magic, and she gave me — she gave me — "

His breathing hitched as he wiped at his eyes.

Jensen stared at Jared. _What on Earth was Jared saying?_

"She gave you what, dude? What did she give you?"

He could hear the panic in his voice now, and tried to breath deeply to calm down a little.

Jared looked up at Jensen with _Jensen's_ green eyes filled with tears.

"She gave me this tea, and it was supposed to help us figure out what the problem was. And it did, right? We finally figured it out! But I," he gave a huge sob, "I drank the tea with you, and then we woke up in each other's bodies. So it worked, although I didn't know it then, but now we're like this, and I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you — I just gave it to you to drink, and I understand if you ha . . . hate me now."

He collapsed crying, falling forward so his head rested in Jensen's lap. Jensen heard him sobbing, the sobs punctuated with little exclamations of "sorry" over and over.

Jared's revelation stunned Jensen. Part of it was the whole idea of magic being involved. Magic tea!? But then he moved past that to think about the fact of Jared's silence about it all. He could be indignant. Angry, even. It was there a little, simmering underneath the shock. But — Jared drank that tea right along with him. He didn't slip Jensen a mickey, didn't stay out of it. He went right on in there with Jensen without knowing anymore about what would happen. The only reason he'd done it was wanting to help Jensen, find out what was going so dreadfully wrong inside him, so that they could fix it.

And that had happened, hadn't it? The swap had allowed Jared to experience what Jensen had, really _know_ what it was like, how those twisted, knotted up emotions felt. It went both ways too — Jensen got to understand how concerned, how worried, Jared had been. How difficult it was to watch the one you love deal with something so deep-rooted and dark. How all that the watcher wanted was to help, support, mend. Love — how hard just loving could be. What was the saying? Walk a mile in my shoes? Fuck that, they hadn't walked in each other's shoes; they'd lived inside each other's head, breathed in each other's body. Jensen figured that didn't just raise the bar in understanding one another — it blew that fucker out of the water.

Jensen came out of his reverie to find Jared's head still lying on his lap.

"Hey there, hey hey hey, baby. It's all right. It's okay. I love you, and I know — I _know_ — how much you love me. I'm not mad. Yeah, I'd say we shoulda talked more ahead of time, but I'm not mad. You did it, Jay; you found a way for us to finally figure the whole mess out. Look at today — look how much we learned. I know what's wrong now, what's not working right in my head. Okay? You did good."

He picked Jared up by the shoulders and scootched in to hug him, kissing his forehead and hair.

"I love you so much, darlin'. You given me the first real hope of managing the fucked up way my brain works. I could never be mad after that."

He put a hand under Jared's chin and tipped his face up for a kiss, to which Jared eagerly responded. 

It still felt kinda weird to kiss his own face.

They got into bed and lay on their sides, each with an arm around the other. Their feet tangled together as they breathed the air shared between them. For all of the anxiety of the day — the last several days — Jensen felt strangely calm now. He ran his hand over the spiky hair housing Jared, smiled as Jared mirrored his action. They chuckled as a tiny shock zapped them both.

"Hey Jen, can you feel it? Like electricity building inside? Or a current coming on line — it's kind of tingling through me."

"Yeah, I can, Jay. Do you think — maybe tonight?"

"Maybe. Yeah. Yeah, I do. Maybe the magic's run out?"

He looked at Jensen from behind Jensen's vibrant green eyes, hope and love shining through them, studying his own eyes that were looking back at him.

"Damn, Jen — do my eyes always change colors like that?"

Jensen smiled and stroked his cheek. "Yeah, darlin', they do. I love to watch them. And I don't think the magic's running out. Maybe our time being swapped is, but we've got more magic than that."

He kissed Jared deeply now, not the tender soft kisses they'd been trading. He felt rather than heard Jared moan, and then there was skin pressed against his, a cock hardening against his thigh as Jared slid a hand down his back and gripped his ass.

"Yeah? Is it like that, Jay?"

"It is, Jen. It's exactly like that," Jared replied before kissing him hard.

And Jensen forgot everything else as he opened up to his man, his lover, and they lost themselves in each other and all the pleasure and love they could share.

And then they slept.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun sent sneaky rays of light between the curtains; annoying little intruders that poked at Jared's head, making him wake up. He groaned softly and rolled over, trying to bury his head in the welcoming pillow. He felt warm and boneless; the sheets were just the right temperature, the mattress was cradling his body perfectly. The rich smell of coffee wafted in, further stimulation that told him that Jensen was already up. He sighed and pushed his way upright, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. Something felt a little off, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He rubbed his hands over his face and then pushed his hair back behind his ears.

His long hair.

Jared gasped and opened his eyes. There was the bedroom, every line and edge crystal clear. He looked down and saw long legs with knobby knees, muscular and lean. He ran his hand over his chest and felt the curve of his pecs, the coarseness of his dark chest hair.

"Oh my God," he whispered. "Oh my _God!_ " He yelled out hoarsely, "Jensen! _Jen!_ "

He scrambled to get out of the bed, kicking off the clinging blanket and sheets. Where was Jensen? He needed to see him, see that he was in fact in his own body as well!

" _Jen!_ "

He got to the door and threw it open, and there was Jensen on the other side. Jensen, with his short, light brown hair all messy and and his trimly muscled body, his big green eyes open wide as he stared at Jared.

"Jay! Are you okay?" He reach out and grabbed Jared's arm, _his_ with the bulging biceps and the vitiligo patches of whiter skin.

"Jared?"

"Jen! We're — our bodies — we swapped! We're back!"

He clutched at Jensen, pulling him close and hugging him tightly. The spiky hair tickled his nose and he laughed, throwing his head back and feeling ridiculously delighted at hearing his own booming laugh ringing out.

"Yes, we are! And I agree, it's fantastic! So come downstairs for some coffee and a special breakfast — I have pancakes waiting!" Jensen smiled at Jared's eager expression. "Seems I remember how hungry a certain body can be. And, Jay?" Jared, turning to re-enter the bedroom, turned back to him. "Put some sweats on, it's chilly."

Jensen went back downstairs as Jared looked down and realized that he was stark naked. And it _was_ a little chilly, and no one liked shrinkage.

They had a glorious breakfast. Jensen had made both chocolate chip and apple cinnamon pancakes, with warm maple syrup — the good kind, they did live in Canada after all — while Jared rustled up a big pile of bacon and some sliced fruit. There was plenty of fresh coffee and a pitcher of refreshing cranberry cocktail juice. They were silly as they ate, exclaiming about their various parts and expressing the joy of being back in the proper body again. There was the occasional meaningful look, but they chose to avoid the elephant in the room and simply savor the moment.

The food was cleared up and the dishes done when they finally got more serious.

"You know we have that appointment still today, the therapist one?" Jared asked quietly.

"Yeah, I know," said Jensen pensively.

He walked over to the window and stood looking out into the back yard.

"You okay with this, babe?" Jared followed after him, circling an arm around Jensen's waist and kissing his hair.

Jensen nodded and cleared his throat. Jared could hear how close he was to crying.

"Yeah, it's okay. I mean — I have to follow through with this. We didn't go through all of that just to have me blow off the diganosis. And I — I do want to get better. _Feel_ better."

He turned within the circle of Jared's arm and looked up at him with a smile.

"Jeez, so tall again. That was kinda fun, you know? Being the tall one for once."

Then the smile fled and Jared saw those green eyes darken with the emotion filling Jensen.

"We learned what we needed to learn, Jay, and I'm going to stick with the plan. I think we should drop off the lithium prescription at the drugstore on the way to the therapist, and then we'll meet with him and, if we like him, we'll set up a schedule." He put his arms around Jared's neck and laced his fingers together. "I love you, Jay, and you did something freakin' amazing for me. For _us_. I want to do something for us too, and that's deal with this bipolar shit. I want to be with you a long time, Jared. I want us to be happy a long time. And that means I've got to face the facts."

Jared's chest felt tight, and he struggled a second to catch his breath.

"You're amazing, Jensen Ross Ackles. I love you, and I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

It was a sunny morning, and Jared was glad he'd brought his sunglasses as they drove to the therapist. His office was in a beautiful old house, with flowers and mature trees surrounding it, set in a quiet neighborhood. Jared pulled up and parked on the street. He got out and joined Jensen as they walked up to the front door. It was a heavy wooden door, with a stained glass insert and brass hardware that many hands had buffed to a dull shine. 

They went inside and walked into the waiting room. It was spacious but cozy, with mismatched chairs and a comfortable-looking couch loaded with throw pillows. They sat on the edge of it, perched uneasily and holding hands. Jensen felt like Jared's hand was the only thing mooring him; otherwise, he might float away. He held on tightly — he wanted to be here, despite his anxiety. This mattered. It mattered more than anything.

Jared's hand tightened on his. 

"Listen . . ." he murmured.

Footsteps came down the hall and approached the waiting room. They stood up as a tall, slender man with thick blond hair and wire frame glasses entered. He gave them a wide smile and stuck his hand out.

"Hello! You must be Jared and Jensen. My name is Tom. Won't you come into my office?"

They looked at each other. Yes?

_Yes?_

Yes.

They shook his hand and followed Tom down the hall.


End file.
